The Boy Who Thought He'd Never Grow Up
by Sugarplumprincess94
Summary: Peter Pan had become used to the motions of meeting a Darling, taking her to Neverland, and bringing her home. One way or another, each girl always found reasons why growing old was better than to stay forever young. When a mythical key is sought after by enemies new and old, Peter Pan finds his own reason that questions his dreams of never growing up. *10/12/2020 Will update soon!
1. Chapter 1: I'll Always Believe in You

**A/N: This is my first **_**Peter Pan**_** fanfiction, I'm excited to share it. It's based from the Disney movies along with some of my own ideas and twists. Please read and review. Critiques more than welcome. **

**Ch.1**

**I'll Always Believe in You**

"I'll always believe in you, Peter Pan."

-Wendy Darling, 1921

"I'll always believe in you, Peter Pan."

-Jane Mccollin, 1941

"I'll always believe in you, Peter Pan."

-Margret Thomas, 1966

"I'll always believe in you, Peter Pan."

-Kimberly Buchanan, 1979

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

London, Spring 1979

"One, two, three, four, five, si—"

"Kimberly?"

A little girl with soft red curls peered her eyes from her counting tree's thick brown bark.

"What are you doing, dear?" her mother questioned, stepping out into their lavish home's garden.

"I'm playing hide and seek with my new friend." Kimberly Buchanan replied, pointing into the morning's fresh blue sky.

"Oh?" her mother, Margret Buchanan, was intrigued, "A new imaginary friend?" she looked about the sage toned grass, swaying lightly upon the spring's cool breeze, finding no one.

"He's not imaginary, mother. He's real! He even flies!" the five-year-old flapped her arms like a bird.

"He flies, darling?" she entertained her creative child, crouching down and kissing her soft sweet cheek, "Have you named him yet?"

"His name is Peter."

"Peter?" Margret repeated with surprise, "Why did you choose that name, Kimberly?"

"That's his name, mother."

"It is?" the girl's mother searched her garden more earnestly, "What does he look like, dear?"

Little Kimberly's blue eyes motioned from her parents' bushes, flowers, and tall full trees, "He must be shy." she wanted her mother to see the red headed boy for herself.

"Hmm. I doubt that!" Margret spoke beneath her breath.

"What, Mum?" the child altered her gaze.

"Nothing, Kimberly. Come along." she took her petite hand within her own, marching back toward their patio's brick stairs.

"But mother," Kimberly hesitated, glancing back at the garden, her mother pulling her along, "I have to say goodbye."

"You'll see Peter again after you eat lunch. You want to grow up into a big girl, don't you?" Margret's sky blue orbs encircled Kimberly's.

"Hmmm…" she thought, cupping her small blush lips, "Peter hasn't grown up." She answered as they came into their cozy kitchen, a maid preparing their lunch table.

"Mm-hmm!" Margret lifted Kimberly over her hip and sat her down on a softly pillowed chair, "But Peter is still much older than you." Margret thanked their maid and handed Kimberly a fork, "Now eat."

The child sighed. She'd much rather be outside, playing her game. Peter had found her four times. The red curled daughter took one look at her mother's warning eyes and ate her cooked green peas. Yuck!

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Goodnight, my angel." A blonde haired man gave a warm kiss upon Kimberly's head.

"Goodnight, Daddy." she yawned wide; her small head nestled deeply into her silk fluff pillows.

Margret smiled as her husband kissed her cheek and left their daughter's room. He knew the child could never sleep without—

"Tell me a Peter Pan story!" Kimberly beamed inside her blankets beside her lamp's glow.

"Very well, Kimberly Anne." Margret's eyes sped shortly toward her daughter's window; she twisted a smirk and looked back upon the child in bed, brushing her braided auburn red strands, "How about…the time you mother helped Peter Pan find buried treasure."

Kimberly shot up with a gasp, "Mummy," a heavy grin curled, "you've been to Neverland?"

"A few times—many years ago." her mother cautiously glanced upon the bedroom's empty doorframe, "Long before I met your father."

Kimberly's second gasp slowly seeped through her lips while her little blue eyes peed above her tucked knees. It would be a secret—just between them.

Margret's gaze grew bright, "You know Captain Hook—"

"The codfish!" Kimberly bellowed, blowing blubbers with her wet tongue.

Margret perched her mouth: a faint laugh carried among the sky, "Yes," the woman gathered her composure, "that Captain Hook." she wiggled upon the bed's mattress, anxious to begin her tale, "For years, since your great-grandmother's childhood—"

"Grannama Wendy!" the great-granddaughter had called the old woman the mistaken name since age two, all finding it too adorable to correct: her small jaw trembled each syllable, her cheeks puffed.

Margret grinned, "Captain Hook and Peter Pan searched for a special treasure chest made of pure gold."

"Why was the treasure special, Mummy?"

"Because of one necklace the treasure had inside: The Key of Time."

Kimberly's eyes shimmered.

"Many in Neverland said the key didn't exist, saying it was only a myth made from old pirates bored with their labors, but Peter believed and was determined to find it. When Captain Hook learned that Peter, his friends, and I—"

"The Lost Boys!" Kimberly giggled, clenching her toy bear.

"Were searching for the key and its treasure, he wanted to look, too, taking his whole ship's crew to Neverland's shore. He searched high and low!" her mother described.

Kimberly gasped, "Did Hook find it mother?"

"No, Kimberly. No matter where Captain Hook and his crew searched, they came up empty." her daughter was relieved, "You see," Margret delicately massaged Kimberly's fine soft hair, soothing her into laying back on her bed's pillows, "the Key of Time was hidden from humans years before—by the mermaids. The treasure wasn't on land but underwater, deep beneath Mermaid Lagoon. A mere human would die before reaching it."

"So how did you and Peter get it?" Kimberly began to yawn.

"The mermaids chose Peter to protect it and had the mermen bring the chest to us on land when Captain Hook started a search across Neverland's seas."

"The codfish!" the tired child groggily muttered, her eyes peacefully closed.

Margret giggled and lifted a sewn quilt over her to keep warm, "Goodnight, Kimberly." she kissed her cheek and shut off her lamp, the room sweeping with a midnight blue.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, dear?"

Kimberly lifted her weighted eyes, "Is the treasure still safe?" she hoped it was.

Margret's dim silhouette nodded by the child's door, "Into this very night, my love."

The mother rolled her eyes, her yawning daughter straining to speak again, "And what does the Key of Time do? Why does Captain Hook want it?"

Margret's eyes fell toward her daughter's window, praying the key never fell into the wrong hands, viewing a bright glowing star and a second star to the right, "It doesn't matter now, Kimberly. The key is safe, and it always will be."

"Why?"

Margret warmly smiled, staring at her daughter's little form within the darkness, "Because Peter Pan will always be in Neverland to protect it." she saw the girl's satisfied nod, "We love you, Kimberly." the woman whispered, leaving her room.

"I love you, Mummy." The red head turned on her side, facing the window's silver stars before sleep finally welcomed her, "And I love you, too, Peter." Kimberly Buchanan closed her twinkling blue orbs. "I'll always believe in you."

**A/N:** **And that's the intro! So we've got a key, an old story, and one cute kid. I'm well into writing this one. I'm busy at times, but know these chapters will get posted**. **The story is rated M, but it's innocent for now. ** **Thank you for reading and ****please, please, please****, let me know what you think so far and in the chapters to come: love it, hate it, bored with it, doesn't matter—I want to know and see how I can improve my work. I'll post again as soon as I can. Also, if any of you are Princess and the Frog fans, I have a fanfiction in that section as well. It's titled **_**Now We're Human**_**. Check my profile if you're interested. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Keykeeper

**Ch.2**

**The Keykeeper**

Mr. Buchanan was a practical man: a respected London lawyer by age twenty six, graduating finishing school top of his class. He was born into a high society home and lived the life expected of him by his parents and two older brothers, who also practiced law. And to be honest, the privileged man's life was absolutely dull—until meeting Margret, whom to this day he expresses, 'is the vibrant color that saved him from a gray and black canvas of misery.' Now, at thirty one, Mr. Buchanan did what he always did at eight-thirty each night: smoke his pipe and twist beside the fire with a good book. As his young angel Kimberly was lulled to sleep with her own stories, the grown man had to lull himself, mentally reciting the poetic bouts recorded from Shakespeare either by fascination or utter boredom!

A darting shadow out in his garden made Mr. Buchanan lift his droopy orbs from his latest poem. Closing his book, the young husband and father rose, strolling toward the garden's doors without fear. The man had seen this shadow before, long ago when Kimberly was first born. Mr. Buchanan opened the bone white doors; a strong breeze crossed his face, followed by a red haired boy, floating above the patio in mid-air.

"Peter Pan." the practical man, or at least once practical, greeted.

"Hello, Mr. Buchanan." the flying child's feet contacted the patio's gloss wooden floor, and he bowed, removing his pine green hat, "May I speak to Mar- Mrs. Buchanan?" after all these years, it was still hard for Peter to accept the woman married-and now a mother.

But after Wendy's adulthood, then Jane's, he'd thought he'd be used to it by now!

"She's telling our daughter a bedtime story."

"Well, she was. Now, she's finished." Peter blushed, giving his spying away.

Margret's husband fought a glare. He'd be sure to find a good curtain store tomorrow.

"Fredrick? Fredrick, darling, are you ready for bed?" his wife's voice echoed, her steps fleeting down the home's main stairs.

Mr. Buchanan huffed; the boy had unannounced visits for weeks, informative word spreading from household's servants. He could no longer turn a blind eye, "This had better be important!"

"Oh, it is, Mr. Buchanan." Peter tolerated Margret's husband but wasn't too fond about him; he swooped past the adult's form, "I won't be long."

"Margret!" the impatient man marched toward the living room's threshold.

"Hello, dear." Margret kissed his lips, intimately lingering, the night late.

"We have company."

"We do?" she pulled away, glancing across the room towards their garden's doors; she quickly released her passionate hold, "Peter."

"Hello, Mrs. Buchanan."

Mr. Buchanan saw his wife's hinting stare. Frustration filled him as he left. If the boy had chosen to grow up, Margret might have married him instead! Was he doomed for Peter's intrusions for the entire marriage?

"Peter."Margret's sky bright gaze shined, the only part regarding her that would never age in Peter's eyes.

"Hi, Margret." he shyly answered, a small grin contorted upon him.

Peter loved Margret. If girls and adulthood didn't disgust him so, he might have married her, but he was happy she found a man like Mr. Buchanan—even if he was a grouch, prim and boring, like so many fathers and husbands his friends had!

Margret physically shook away her daydreaming, "Please come in. Have a seat." Peter was barely past the garden's doors; she stepped aside, making his way clear.

Peter was cautious, his pointed ears slightly wavered, "Are you sure Mr. Buchanan wouldn't mind?" he clasped tighter to his hat, floating over the floor with a lean, hoping for a better look.

"No, no. My husband won't mind at all." Margret lied, biting her rouge lip.

"Thank you." Peter hovered by, "I promised him I wouldn't stay long." he sat on the couple's couch.

"Oh, Peter, Fredrick doesn't mind you—really." she bit her lip once more, her eyes along the ceiling.

The child smiled, knowing her lies, a second trait that would never age. The woman sat on a footrest, cushioned and leathered.

Peter whistled; his head circled the room, never being inside, "What does he do again?"

Though Wendy and Jane's husbands worked hard, their homes were never this fine. Peter admired the fireplace's stone gray marble, and the wooden mantle that nested it, the amber fire crackling below.

"He's a lawyer."

"Oh." Peter's voice plundered flat, "Dad was one of those." his dark tinted eyes harbored irritation, and he formed a pout.

"You never told me that."

"Why would I? Whenever we were together, we were busy having fun." Peter's heart warmed as Margret's youthful eyes reflected within a nod.

Peter crossed a leg over his knee, "Don't you think the kid's kinda young to learn about the key?" he twisted his mouth, propping his chin, mid-air over the couch.

"She'll forget about it, Peter."

"That'll be kinda hard."

"Why?"

"She's a smart one—like me! You, too, I guess." a shrug came to his shoulders, gravity's tug pulling him back upon the couch's pillows.

"Well, thank you. I'll take it." the girl's mother chuckled.

"And besides, she'll always remember—if you don't hide this well enough!" Peter tossed a deerskin pouch on Margret's lap.

"Wha—" the woman grabbed the pouch's strings, "Is this from the Indians?"

"The pouch is. What's inside's not." a smirk folded his lips.

Margret gasped, pulling out a glimmering golden key with a star-shaped diamond, capturing the fireplace's light at its center, "The Key of Time?" she quickly looked toward the guest across her living room, currently staring at an oddly carved sculpture on a near table, "Peter, I can't keep this!"

"Sure ya can! I have for thirteen years." Peter's glimpse left the artistic piece, in his mind rolled as Hook's last shipwreck, "It's your tum."

"M-m-m-my turn?! Peter," she chased the laughing friend across the room, "Peter, anything can happen to it here! What if I lose it? What if it's destroyed? Then, where would that leave you and everyone else in Neverland, hmm?"

Peter ceased his glide, tan slippers greeting the oat white rug below him, "Then, don't lose it, and don't let it get destroyed." his flying turned reckless, "Keep an eye on it for me for a few years—ten or twenty, maybe?" and he swiftly headed for the Buchanans' garden.

"Peter, this key is alot of responsibility!"

"I know. That's why I want a break! Hook's been getting too close to my hidin' spots for it, lately." he laughed, "I was able to keep the key under his mattress for a whole year before moving again—right on his ship!" the boy held his stomach as his laugh deepened, "Dumb old codfish!"

Margret gasped with rounded eyes, "Peter, this isn't a game! Losing this key would mean losing Neverland!" she held the jeweled treasure between them.

"We don't know for sure, Margret. No one's ever used the key before." Peter scratched his head, "No one even knows how. Just keep an eye on it for me, will ya? Put in a safe, and I'll come back in a few years. Hook should be bored lookin' for it by then." Peter was about to spring into the night's sky, straightway to Neverland.

"Peter." Margret heaved a breath, glancing toward the key before she spoke, "Grandmother's sick…" Wendy's eldest granddaughter held back tears, "She's dying, Peter."

The boy stood quietly.

"Peter!"

The childhood friend came out from his shock, shaking his head, and met Margret's cold teary orbs, "Take care of the key, Margret… I'm sorry." he flew into the darkness, a navy mist absorbing his frame.

Margret cleaned her tear from her cheek and closed back the garden's doors, sealing the Key of Time tightly within her hand.


	3. Chapter 3: Old Friends

**Ch.3**

**Old Friends**

An old woman was resting in bed as her room's monitor beeped in a slow steady rhythm, set at her bedside. Her daughters and sons, as well as their daughters and sons, had left for home earlier in the evening. She loved every one of them so; each had a special twinkle inside them, making none alike, as the silver stars shining among the window's deep blue sky. As she lay still in her ink-knit room, the tired woman reflected back toward her youthful days—the days before life's lusts, ambitions, and worries: from that she'd had her fill. No, the old woman recalled her childhood days, even more so, her childhood nights, as Wendy Moira Angela Darling.

A soothing smile crept upon her cracked pale lips as she envisioned her younger brothers: their restless laughter, snug together in her bed in their nursery, the secrets they shared, the comfort given to one another during stormy nights, and the plentiful hours spent playing with Wendy's beloved pup, Nana, named rightfully so, becoming a second mother to her and her siblings through the years. Nana, too, was gone. Wendy was the only Darling left, and now, she was ready to pass on, to be reunited with her late husband and family again.

But before she did, there was one last memory she needed to relive: her dear old friend, Peter Pan. It had been years since Wendy had last seen him, when her precious little Margret was only a baby. Wendy had charged the boy to watch over her granddaughter and be a good friend— the same friend Peter had always been for herself. She wished she could see him one last time, though her old blue eyes, still as bright and rich as the Atlantic, grew heavy. They both held a weight the woman hadn't felt in her entire sixty-six years. It was almost time.

A cool breeze crossed her fair skin, giving her a slight renewed strength, and the night's spring breeze remained within her hospital room, much to her surprise. Her sore muscles relaxed; the drifting air was such a comfort.

"Wendy?"

Her rich eyes, refreshed, shifted, " Peter." and Wendy weakly smiled.

"Wendy…" tears flooded the twelve-year-old's gaze, eternally young, "What—" he traced her frail body; the blankets keeping her warm outlined her thin bones, "What happened?"

"I'm older, Peter." a light cough, Wendy wished to suppress, escaped, "When a person grows older, sometimes, they can get sick. I got sick."

Peter shook his head. Not Wendy. Not _his_ Wendy. A beeping black screen with jagged green lines caught his attention, "What does this do?" despite his curiosity he noticed the lines slow in speed. Peter wanted to circle around the odd machine, but he feared his swift flying would be too much for Wendy.

"It's my heart monitor."

"Why do you need it? If anyone needs their heart monitored, it's Hook!"

Wendy dryly laughed. She beheld Peter's sad posture; the bright moon's glow etched the boy's low shoulders, "Peter." she sweetly sympathized, holding out her hand.

He quickly embraced it, reaching her side, "Wendy, please hold on…" the child was heartbroken and wiped his streaming tears; he was on Earth long enough to remember death, "If you can just hold on, I'll go get Tink, and she'll sprinkle her fairy dust on ya and-and-" Wendy heavily coughed as he spoke, "I'll take you to Neverland. You won't have to have a heart monitor or be in this boring dark hospital ever again!" Peter firmly fixed his hand in Wendy's, believing it was the only thing keeping her alive.

"Peter," the woman inhaled, "I'm so glad you're here. I've wanted to see you again for so long." a deep cough ached within her chest, "How are you?"

"I'm awful, and I'll be even worse if I don't get you home!" he kept Wendy's hand, growing frustrated with all the wires and needles around her, "Let me carry you there."

"Peter, this is my home."

"Wendy," the boy's brown eyes trembled, "you-you should have stayed in Neverland- with me! This never would have happened if you did!"

"Peter," she touched his wet face, brushing away his tears, "death is a part of life."

"No! It's the end of it! And I won't let it happen to you!"

"Peter," Wendy clasped his hand as tightly as she could. If he left, she'd be gone before he returned, "I don't regret my choice to leave Neverland-neither did John or Michael." both siblings had died a few years back: John from the war, and Michael by a sudden illness no one expected, "Peter, the night you took us to Neverland stayed in our hearts forever. You did keep us young, dear—young at heart." Wendy's spirit grew sad, and her gentle palm stroked Peter's cold tears with higher diligence, "I never stopped believing—you know that. None of us did. Ever." Peter kissed Wendy's cheek; his lips were innocent and warm, "How is the key?" she wondered. The Key had crossed her mind often over the last few days.

"I gave it to Margret tonight."

"Margret?" Wendy's orbs blew wide, "Why?"

"I'm tired of keepin' up with it, Wendy." the boy's tears began to slow, and a childish whine overtook his weaker tone.

"Responsibility." his dearest friend nodded, her doting tone reminding him about the mother he barely knew. She turned her head where Peter sat with a teasing smirk, "It's a very grown up thing, isn't it?"

"And Margret's better at grown up things than I am! I like to have fun!"

"Peter, all of us enjoy having fun."

"You didn't."

"Oh?" she mocked, "Then, why did you come to my nursery's windows so often to hear my stories?"

"Hmm?" the boy's scarlet brow shifted, "Oh, that's different." he proudly smiled, keeping Wendy's hand close, "Those were all about me—having fun!" and he crossed his floating body's knee over the other, sitting in a shapeless chair at her bedside.

"Mark my words, Peter Pan, one day, you will find something in your life worth more to you than always having fun! Who knows—" the old woman ignored the boy's bored yawn, "you might even choose to grow up because of it."

"Never!" Peter denied.

What a horrific idea!

"Don't you want a family?"

"You, the Boys, the Indians, and Tink are my family. Who else do I need?"

Wendy twisted her lip with an opted hush.

"Wendy?" Peter's frightened voice changed within the unlit room, thinking she was dead.

"I'm fine, Peter." she heard him whistle a breath, "I just wonder which of my future granddaughters or nieces will convince you to change your mind." the English woman outwardly considered: a mother of four, a grandmother of twelve, and a great-grandmother of eight. Peter had met them all, including each infatuated girl, at one point or another during adolescence, as well as her brothers' children.

"None of them, Wendy." Peter pulled out his golden pipes. Concluding Wendy to be alright, he found it wise, and her privilege, to serenade the woman, "You were the only girl for me." he played the woman a tune, and light notes frolicked as the air.

"I was?" Wendy weakly giggled, doubting that, "You never told me."

A note choked upon his pipe, "Why would I—girls are gross!" and Peter continued his happy melody.

Wendy shook her head. All it would take for the Lost Boy was one girl-one very special girl.

* * *

**A/N: I promise I'll keep posting. I am well ahead of my posts for you in my notebooks (many chapters ahead...)! Please leave reviews or any tips on my writing style. Writing is a big passion of mine. Help me get better. I want my readers to be entertained. I am excited to know what you all think of the story so far and as we go along. Don't be shy! I'll try to post again soon! Thank you to all who are taking the time to read my work. Until next time, take care!**


	4. Chapter 4: Playtime

**Ch.4**

**Playtime**

Though that night at the hospital seemed bleak for Wendy and Peter Pan, miraculously, the darling woman did hold on, living for many more moons and years. The family never learned about the Lost Boy's visit to their mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother: except for young Margret…

The old woman's granddaughter sat at Wendy's bedside, who now reclined upright inside her cozy home, on soft warm pillows; a healthy rose shade was painted upon her cheeks, "He came to me while I was in the hospital, Margret."

"Who, grandmother?" the young woman became puzzled.

"Peter."

"Peter?" she stated with shock.

The boy appeared to have fled the planet once she told him his beloved Wendy was sick…or, by the looks of her grandmother today, _was _sick.

"Margret, he hasn't changed a bit!" the grandmother's blue eyes glowed, relieved to have seen her old friend again; a youthful aura had been placed on her daisy skin since their meeting.

"No, he hasn't—" Margret agreed, a bitter twinge taking her lips as she shook her head, "in body or mind!"

Wendy shifted her mouth, reading through the young woman's words, "Now, Margret, thirteen years have gone by! You can't stay mad at Peter forever for not wanting to grow up and marry you!"

Margret twirled her vexed sky orbs, "He said, 'he'd think about it'!" the married mother defended.

"Yes, and he did, Margret. I warned you long before you met Peter not to hope you could change him. So did Jane."

The disappointed woman then sighed.

"How's the baby?" Wendy smiled, adoring her youngest great-granddaughter.

"Kimberly's wonderful…She's met Peter." the child's mother secretly grew afraid, afraid he'd one day break her heart, too.

Kimberly was as bound to become infatuated with him one day as nearly every other girl in their family did, at one point in their lives.

Wendy chuckled, "Peter enjoys playing with the youngest children the most! Remember when Michael's grandchildren were that young?"

"Yes, I was ten, and Peter left me for weeks to play with them without saying goodbye!"

Wendy sighed. Margret would be bitter towards Peter for years—no matter what good he did!

"Peter told me the other night he gave you the Key."

"Yes." her granddaughter's eyes grew tender, "Do you think Captain Hook is getting to be too much for him?"

"Probably not." Wendy doubted, "If anything, it's an excuse for Peter to see you more often—and my little Kimberly!" she grinned, happily shifting her covered feet in bed.

Margret bared a smile and handed her dear grandmother fresh hot lemon tea.

**X-X-X-X-X-X**

Peter Pan dashed over the cotton white clouds as the high morning sun beamed over his back. He looked down into a forest's clearing, spotting an old tree, lacking all its leaves, spring's peak. The boy froze in flight, extending his legs and folding his arms as he crowed like a rooster, "Rrr-rrar-aroooo!"

Two red haired boys, dressed in gray costumes with ringed black and white tails, poked their heads out from a bush; an older boy, clad as a brown bear, popped out a lone tree's hollow, "Peter!" they all cheered, running onto the clear green grass close by, "You're back!"

"Cubby! Twins! Where are Tink and the boys?"

"Who knows?" Cubby squeaked and pulled back his bear-eared hood, exposing his plush blonde hair, proceeding to scratch his itchy scalp.

"Well, I'll find them. Head down to shore and see if you can spot Hook's ship." Peter instructed and, in a breath, soared back into the clouds.

"Oh, boy! Playtime!"

"Yeah! Playtime!" the twins cheered, and the group scurried off, going back into the tree home's hollow for needed weapons.

**X-X-X-X-X-X**

"Hey, Nibs! Toodles! Look!" a slim child pointed high, grinning, with fire-red fox ears on his head, "It's Peter!"

"Peter!" the last Lost Boys rejoiced, sliding down a muddy hill, the wet dirt running and coating their fleeting bodies as dripping dark chocolate.

Peter paused in the air, disgusted, "Hi, b-boys. Listen, I've just come up with a plan to stop Hook for a while."

"Do you have the Key, Peter?"

"No. I hid it—far away." the oldest boy answered.

"How far?" Nibs questioned, squeezing excess mud from his wet cotton-tail and drooping long ears.

"Far."

"What if we need it?" Slightly the Fox, asked.

"What would we need it for? We don't even know how to use it." Peter frowned, flying over them, "We're going to ambush Hook's ship, but first, you guys have gotta get cleaned up. There's a lake by Mermaid Lagoon. You can wash up there while I see the girls."

The dirty boys followed their leader's distant shadow along on foot, leaving a sticky mud trail behind.

**X-X-X-X-X-X**

A ruby-headed mermaid sang her morning song, rinsing her hair beneath the lagoon's splashing waterfall, cooling her from the hot morning. A beauty with long raven hair placed a starfish at her hair's side, adorning her happily like a cherry red rose. A final blonde mermaid welcomed the day's hot sun, using it to tan her creamy skin as she laid upon a flat pale orchid rock. All the women suddenly raised their gazes as they heard a canon's near blast.

"Hook!" one shrieked.

"Hook? Hook!"

"Hahahaha! Good morning, ladies!" the evil captain grinned, standing tall and high on his coming ship's deck, peering down on the frightened maids, huddled close behind a large rock in the sapphire water.

"What are you doing in our lagoon?" the bravest among them questioned, swimming forward.

"My dear," the man's curved silver hook glinted in the sun as he pressed it light upon his chin, "rumor has it, you ladies have something I'm after."

"And what's that?" frowned the blonde.

"Why, The Key of Time!" he chuckled, "Now," his blood-shot eyes barred wide, "where is it?"

"Somewhere you'll never find it!" the redhead answered, swimming beside the blonde.

"Oh, dear. It seems if you ladies aren't willing to cooperate, I'll have to take the key by force…and its treasure!" the pirate's crew laughed heavily behind him.

"Go ahead!" the black head sneered. "You're free to look around!"

Hook was pleased, "Gentlemen?" and glanced toward his crew.

The men heaved, letting down Hook's most experienced members into the water in a little rowboat.

"Search everywhere, boys!" Hook screeched from deck, raising his sword, "Leave no place unturned!"

The pirates cackled as they pillaged the limited land harboring Mermaid Lagoon, alarming all its dwellers. The scared women held each other close and dove underwater as one man with a boiled nose and smelly beard shouted at them at a near rock. Hook chuckled with delight upon his ruby red ship, and his shoulders quavered.

"Cap'n!"

"Blast!" the destructive ship leader yelled, quickly searching the crystal blue skies.

Peter crowed, appearing into the enemy's vision through a cave.

"Peter!"

"Peter Pan!

"Peter Pan!"

"It's Peter!" the blonde mermaid smiled and fluttered her infatuated spheres.

"Peter Pan!" Hook called, his only fist balled.

"Missed me, Cap'n?" the playful boy flew atop the man's ship, tossing down a stray cannonball he'd found near the lagoon's shore.

"Captain!" the ship's aboard crew scrambled for their lives as the black ball's ink shadow grew closer and closer on deck, destined for a splitting plummet through each level's floor.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

"Curse you, Peter Pan!" Hook motioned his silver hook above.

"Oh, Cap'n, I'm just getting started!"

The dreamy-orbed mermaids sighed from their rock.

"Captain?!"

"Smee!" the older man's boss shouted as the bumbling employee came on deck.

"We have a growing flood on floor three…It's Peter Pan!" the gray-stranded gentleman shouted, bouncing and clapping with more excitement than he had all week.

"Blast!" Hook looked back toward the sky, "Do you have any idea how much money it will cost to repair my ship, boy?"

"Mmm…"Peter motored as he flew in repetitive circles around the lead pirate's sails, slashing various holes with his golden knife, "A lot?" Peter never owned money; he could barely count it!

"Blast you, Peter Pan!" Hook angrily jumped up and down against the crimson floorboards, Smee's eyes darting with panic.

"Why are you disturbing these lovely young women," Peter paused as the on-looking mermaids sighed, "on this fine morning, Captain?" he walked floating steps around Hook and Smee, the ship slowly sinking into the lagoon.

"Captain!" his fearful crew ran below deck, hoping to spare a few priceless items being lost as others prepare extra rowboats.

"GrRRRR! Where's the Key of Time's chest, Pan?!"

"You frighten these women to death over an old key, Hook?" Peter clicked his tongue, fists at his side, "The Key of Time is only a myth. Oh, Captain, you've really embarrassed yourself and your crew on this one."

The women smirked within the water.

"Horsedung! I've heard the Indian's ancient tale about the Key now, Pan!"

"You have?" Peter pretended to sound surprised, crossing his knee as he spun around the two gravity-dazed pirates below, "Well, congrats, Hook. You've cracked the code." Peter glanced toward Hook's drenched crew, returning upstairs with jewels, maps, and bags, their clothes soaked up to the tallest's thighs.

"I've only cracked half! I need the chest!" the adult's eyes and sable mustache twitched.

"And what will you do with the chest if you found it, Hook?" Peter bothered to entertain as the man's ship dove lower into the lagoon.

"Mm…Captain?" Smee saw the early water rising toward deck.

Hook didn't hear him, too boiled and red-eared to hear or see anything except the flying child before him, "That's for me to know and for you to never find out—until it's too late!"

"Uh-huh!" Peter concluded so then cupped a hand aside his mouth, "Now, boys!"

"Woo! Woohoo! Wooh!" the Lost Boys burst out their hiding places on the cliff sides, peeking from rocks, caves, and thick trees which towered over Mermaid Lagoon; they released three cannon balls upon Hook's ship…

Boom-boom! Boom-boom-boom! Boom-boom-boom!

"Paaaannn!" Hook blubbered as he held, Mr. Smee, the children now sending swift debris with their slingshots' aides. Their bodies were soon swallowed by the lagoon's eager waves.

"Better luck next time, Cap'n!" Peter laughed, tipping his hat toward the protected mermaids, waving his way, "Tink?"

Tinkerbell chimed at her cue, sprinkling golden fairy dust over the Lost Boys, all six beginning to fly.

"Where to next, Peter?" Slightly laughed as Toodles the Skunk and The Twins pushed the floating cannon back home.

"I'm up for a little mud sliding! Who's with me?" Peter crowed his iconic rooster crow, and his laughing friends soared with him past a shipwrecked Hook and his crew.

Crew members sneezed and coughed within the lagoon as Peter Pan's favorite fairy dashed away, spraying large dust over them, bright as the sun, choking as the fuzziest ash lint.

"Curses! Foiled again!" Hook smacked the water's surface as men rowed by to pull him aboard.

Splash-splash, splash-splash, splash-splash, splash-splash, splash-splash, splash-splash!

Hook's ears throbbed per beat; his heart thudded, "Smee…" he nervously strained.

"I hear it, Captain." the other man twirled in the water then gasped, "Cappp!" Hook and Smee screamed, fanning their hyper arms toward their alarmed shipmates, as a large great white shark opened its mighty jaws, ready to swallow them whole.

The shark chomped upon Mr. Smee's thick blue trousers as the men pulled him and Captain Hook to safety. The predator bitterly hit his large tail against the crystal water, the tasty pirates getting away. He'd be back.

"Gah!" Hook shouted from his men's rowboat, "That Peter Pan has beaten me for the last time!"

"Yeah, yeah…Yeah…Yes, captain…" the rowing men uttered, hearing the proclamation for decades.

Hook glared over them all, "Just keep rowing, men! Leave the planning to me!" their certain captain ordered as the group sailed on, ship less, over the ocean's misted horizon.

* * *

**A/N: And that's chapter four! Thank you for reading and please, please, please, leave your comments and reviews. They are all greatly appreciated! Shout outs to my new follower and favorites. I'm glad you all are enjoying what I have written so far. The pace for this story is about to pick up. I'll post chapter five as soon as I can. Take care, everyone! **


	5. Chapter 5: She's Old Enough

**Ch. 5**

**She's Old Enough**

A young girl with bright red-orange hair and soul-piercing eyes read a bedtime story to her sleeping three-year-old brother. She brushed his blonde hair as she read word for word, as her mother often did for her, flipping the story to its end. She kissed her baby brother's cheek, a maturity about her, and tucked the little lad in bed. She switched on his nightlight and exited his blue and gray hued room. Kimberly Buchanan had grow into such a charming girl: kind, fun, witty, and beautiful, as her mother before her. The first born tiptoed down her brother's hallway and motioned a corner.

Margret Buchanan was proud of her Kimberly, growing more into a lady every day. But sadly, the child's mother feared she'd never see that wonderful day when Kimberly would embark on her own life's dreams. You see, Margret had a secret: she had become quite sick in the last few months, very sick. She and her husband could mask it from their daughter and son, at least for now, but as optimistic and bright as Margret could be, she knew her strength was fleeting. The city's finest doctors advised her to enjoy life with her family, Margret's body no longer responding to treatments for some time.

A strong breeze carried within her bedroom, "Margret?"

The mother shifted away from her bedroom's large windows; her loving smile was weak tonight.

"How are you?" her dear friend had heard she was sick—from her thriving grandmother.

"I'm alright, Peter." she kissed the boy's cheek as he gently flew beside her.

"Where's Mr. Buchanan?" Peter cautiously scanned the room. After ten years, the two still didn't see eye to eye.

"He's still at his firm—a late night with a partner."

"Oh." Peter's sharp ears lowered. He didn't want Margret to be alone, solely to please his upcoming request.

"Did you need something, Peter?" Margret could see it in his hesitant lips and slouching form.

"Huh?" the child rose his thoughtful gaze, "No."

"Peter…" she knew something was on his mind, "The key is safe." she promised, thinking that the reason.

"Oh, I know." he proudly smiled, making her chuckle, "I just wanted…Well," Peter shyly removed his pine hat; its scarlet feather brushed against his palm as he pondered, "Kimberly's ten now, and—"

"No, Peter!" the girl's mother then knew for certain what he wanted; she folded her arms and faced away.

"Margret, she's old enough."

"I was twelve when you took me to Neverland for the first time! So was mother—and grandmother!"

"Well, Kimberly's smarter than the rest of you."

Margret glared, the sky blues among it turning to ice, "Peter—"

"Margret, I promise to keep her safe." he flew into her vision every way she shifted, "she's like a sister to me."

"Only a sister?"

"What's that suppose to mean?" Peter's lip descended.

"Every Darling—every one, Peter—you've always done this!" the thirty-year-old pointed.

"Done what? Take 'em to Neverland? I promised Wendy and her brothers I always would." Peter tossed his careless posture.

"Every Darling girl! You build up their hopes that you just might like them—like them enough to grow up and—"

"Not this again…" Peter expected, and went and sat on the Buchanans' bed.

"I'm warning you, Peter—not with Kimberly!"

"I can't help all you girls find me irresistible, Margret!" Peter's face didn't shed an ounce of humor, "And the only girls I ever really liked were you and your grandmother! I don't even see Kimberly that way."

"In what way?" the child's mother protectively scowled.

Peter's eyes shimmered with innocence, " A pretty girl…I'd see her as a Lost Girl before that, and I wouldn't dare take her from you- especially now." he looked up from his swinging tan shoes, "Margret?" tears drenched his old friend's eyes.

She wrapped the surprised child in a hug. Peter still found girls gross, even her, but returned the gesture, anyhow. He did love her, after all. He could stomach it.

"Mother?"

"Peter," Margret quietly warned as her daughter searched the close halls, "Kimberly doesn't know I'm sick."

"What?"

"Shh!" the woman silenced his muffles.

"Mother?"

"Please, Peter, don't tell her. It's a secret." Margret held out her pinky for a promise, childhood habits between them hard to end.

"Margret!" Peter's cheeks flustered, not wanting to lie—for once!

"Promise, Peter. I don't want her to worry!"

"Fine!" he wrapped his smaller pinky around hers.

"Mother?" Kimberly entered the bedroom, "Why didn't you answer—" she shifted her stance, discovering her red-headed playmate, "Peter!" she ran into his arms, squeezing him close in her banana-washed nightgown.

"Hello, Kimberly." he gently answered, despite the watchful glare that burned his bones within her mother's eyes.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long."

"Mother!" Kimberly excitedly left Peter's side, "Mark is asleep."

"Thank you, dear."

Her daughter nodded, "Is it possible for me to go to Neverland tonight—before Father gets home?"

Peter widely grinned on Margret's bed.

"Dear!" Margret was appalled with her daughter—always a planner, a communicator, practical! "You have school tomorrow."

"I'll have her back before then, Margret." the trifling accomplice stepped in.

"She still needs to sleep, Peter!" Margret snapped, frowning his way.

"Mother, I only want to see Mermaid Lagoon."

"And ruin your nightgown?!" the design was expensive.

"Oh, Mother!" the child's eyes shined, "Wouldn't that be wonderful?" she found the idea an honor. Maybe her gown could collect a little mud and get tattered around the edges!

"Kimberly…"

"Oh, come on, Margret." Peter Pan began to play the devil's advocate, in a long sneaky tone, "Let the poor kid have a little fun." he cued Kimberly with a light wink, and the two formed matching damp pouts.

Margret sighed, opening her bedroom's window, "Two hours, Peter!"

"I don't have a watch." the boy stated, showing his bare wrists before lifting the woman's daughter in his arms. He stood upon the windowsill, gaping into the night.

"Where's Tinkerbell?"

"Huh?" Peter gazed back across his shoulder, "Back in Neverland. She said if I wanted Kimberly to come so badly, I'd have to carry her myself."

Margret's heart raged. History repeats itself.

"Goodnight, Mother!" the scarlet haired girl waved as Peter dived into flight.

"Oh, Peter, be careful!" the poor mother was about to have a heart attack, the experienced flyer swifter than a hawk, circling a large loop, "Two hours, Kimberly Elizabeth!" she echoed over her home's garden view.

"Don't worry so much, Margret!" the male child cackled, fading toward the moon.

X-X-X-X-X-X

"Wow!" Kimberly admired London's tall glowing clock tower and elaborate bridges as Peter balanced her upon his back.

"It's just a clock." Peter shrugged, seeing Big Ben a thousand times in the last century.

"To you!" she defined, "To me," the girl's sapphire orbs shined, cherishing the clock's nightly appearance, "I've never seen the arrows this close." her long soft hair stirred in the air as she noted the landmark's every detail.

"How could you? You can't fly!" Peter smirked, and Kimberly playfully tapped his scruffy red locks.

"Alright, Peter, I get enough of London in the day! It's seven-fifteen now. So, that means you have to have me back by nine-fiftee—"

"Are you going to boss me around like Margret for the next two hours?" the boy dodged traveling trucks and drivers as he and the girl took a detour over a bridge.

"I might! Now, take me to the stars." and she steadied her hold around his neck.

Peter smiled and spiraled into the clouds, faster than the world's strongest jet. Kimberly's wild screams rang out over the milk-blue clouds, begging for more. She was definitely no Darling!

X-X-X-X-X-X

"And you let her go?!" Mr. Buchanan shouted, arriving home early to tuck his daughter in bed.

"Fredrick, Kimberly's wanted to see Neverland for three years."

"So what's two more, Margret?"

"I may not be here in two more years, Fredrick."

The husband's face grew long, "Darling, don't say that." he pulled the scared woman in his arms.

"She needs to hear my stories and see them come to life. I want to share her own adventures with me—" a tear flowed down her cheek, "while I'm still here." Fredrick Buchanan kissed his loved wife's temple, "I'll need her to tell my stories to Mark for me—and her own. The children need Peter."

"And what about me?"

"Of course you!" Margret pulled away, "But Fredrick, you've never given Peter a chance—or the stories about him."

"Because of how you've always looked at him, Margret! Your cousins were the same way!"

Margret glanced toward the floor, shame coated her tone, "I'm sorry, Fredrick."

The husband, that she did in fact love, scoffed and left her side, needing dinner and a hot shower. Margret sighed and went to rest on their bed.

X-X-X-X-X-X

"There's Neverland." Peter directed his head, Kimberly wide eyed within his hold.

"Peter, it's more beautiful than I thought!" she smiled as they overlooked the island from the clouds.

The forests carried a deep olive sheen, and Neverland's sandy shores looked heavenly soft to walk upon, all encased by the star's radiant blue ocean, reflecting the sun's morning light.

"Come on. I'll show you Mermaid Lag—"

"Peter, could I meet the Lost Boys first?" Kimberly requested, happily hunching her shoulders with folded hands.

"Kimberly, it took almost an hour to get here." the children's leader reminded, brushing down the girl's messy hair, pleading with him for more spirals through London's clouds an extra twenty minutes.

"Please?" her sparkling orbs were prettier than all of Neverland's waters.

Peter sighed, smiled, and carried her down into the island's trees.

* * *

**A/N: Woo, it's been a long time! I've been busy with work and school. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed chapter five. Pretty short, I know, but now with some time off, I'll be posting for this story and my other stories more frequently. I am several chapters ahead in writing for them all. Please, please, please review (what you do like, what you don't )! You are not hurting my feelings, believe me! I need and love reviews (even if you're an anonymous post)! I hope everyone reading my stories stays safe, along with your families and friends. Take care, and I hope to have chapter six up in another week! If not, two at the most! Thank you so much for reading.**


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